


However

by ununoriginal



Category: GLAY
Genre: Gen, One Shot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2000-06-28
Updated: 2000-06-28
Packaged: 2017-12-14 09:41:45
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,062
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/835484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ununoriginal/pseuds/ununoriginal





	However

“Hey.”

Disinterested glance over shoulder, turning into genuine amazement.  “Hi!  Fancy seeing you here!  What’s up?”

“Nothing, just thought I’d come out and ‘hang’ for a while.”

“O _kay_... I’ll overlook those apostrophes that are so obvious in your tone and not ask you why you’re really here.  Come on, let’s get you a drink.”

Several drinks, and too much heart-pounding, ear-numbing music later.

“Man, are you just gonna stand here nursing your drink all night?  If you’d wanted to do that, you should have gone to a pub.”  Pause to catch breath.  Then a poke in the ribs with an elbow.  “Alright, really.  I mean, seriously, what’s bothering you?”

Thunderous bass beats filling in the stretched-out silence keening for an answer.

“Oi!”  Another poke.

A further pause, pregnant with expectation, aborted by the sudden flurry of departure decided upon the spur of the moment.

“Hey, where’re you going?!...  Takuro!”  Long-suffering sigh.  “And I was so looking forward to a good workout...”

***

“Maybe that wasn’t such a good idea...”  The chill, crisp night breeze tends to clear the effects of alcohol and draw back reality pretty fast.  Deep inhalation, drawing cool air into the lungs.

“You can say that again.”  Familiar words sounding behind his back, wry tone unmistakable.  “Proof that I’m not even near halfway drunk yet...  Then again, I came after you, so maybe I am.”

“Ha.  Ha.  Ha.  My deepest sympathies.  So just head on back.”

“Nah,” deep penetrating gaze that he tries to avoid, “I think I’ll just ‘hang’ with you for a while.”

“I hate it when people throw my words back in my face.”

“Probably not the only thing you’re hating at the moment.”

“Do me a favour and cut the perceptive crap, okay?!”

Raised eyebrow.  “Of course, your wish is my command.  We shall just stroll around in companionable silence.”

Withering look in reply.

“Oh, and Taku?”

“What?!”

“To make up for this service and great sacrifice, you better have something decent to drink when we get to your place.”

***

“Damnit!!”  Picking up a beer bottle.  “Why do I do this?  I shouldn’t have let him in.”  Another bottle.  “Should have shooed him back into the club before he could tag along.”  Starting on the beer cans.  “Oh shit, how am I going to get _this_ out of the carpet?!  I’m gonna fucking kill him!!”

“Just carry on.  You’re already doing a great job.”  Weak groan.  Some stumbling and lurching, before a safe landing on the couch.  “God, I feel like something dredged from the toilet bowl.”  Another moan as an arm falls limply across bloodshot eyes.  “Could you draw the blinds please?”  Barely audible whisper.

Taking pity: “Yeah, okay.”  Blinds swish shut.  “I’ll get you something strong.  You need to get some coffee in you.”

Vague sounds of activity from the kitchen.

“Here.”

 “Thanks.”  Mug is accepted gratefully.  “Sometimes I wonder why you just don’t stop me.”

Incredulous snort.  “I couldn’t even if I tried!  It just wouldn’t be you if you didn’t act like this...  I wouldn’t be able to achieve this ever.  Guess we’re just... different...”

 Trail off to silence, but the hangover is not intense enough that the melancholy and wistfulness in his tone is missed.

***

“Takuro, we need to talk.”

“Damn, I hate it when someone says that.  That was how Nanase started her speech when she wanted to break up with me.  You know, maybe people should start coming up with new ways to break bad news–”

“Takuro.”

Guilty furtive glance.  “What?”

“I’m not drunk tonight, Takuro.”

“I can see that.”

“Yeah?  Then cut the crap.”

Slight wince.  “Thought I said I hated people throwing my words back at me.”

“You’re doing it again.”  Warning look.

“Hn.”  Dismissive shrug.

Silence gradually unravels and softly enfolds them as they stare out across the twinkling, bright lights of Tokyo.

“Isn’t it just great being up here?”

“Yeah... kinda reminds me of those days all those years ago when I’d lie on the roof and stare at the stars and imagine they were the spotlights of Budokan and Tokyo Dome glaring back down at me.”

Eyes close, and the voiceless roar of fans, tens of thousands strong, sweep over, their love and adoration engulfing...  Engulfing whom?

The roar recedes, and the emotion now seems that little bit duller, tainted.

“So how does it feel now to be on the other side of the bridge of years, with your ambitions fulfilled?”

“I don’t know...  Lately, I’ve been wondering whether it’s all worth it.”

“What do you mean?”

“Sometimes I feel sort of short-changed, you know?  It’s like, yeah, Glay’s made it big, but on a personal level, I still feel like something’s lacking...”

“Like...?”

“...Well, like if I... well, get acknowledged more–”

...

“My god, Kuboh Takuro, are you feeling under-appreciated?!”  Half-mocking tone creeping in towards the end.

“It’s just that I have to do more – double – what the others do, but it seems to go unnoticed.”  Defensive protest trickling down into a lame silence.

“Let me amend that, overworked _and_ under-appreciated.  Poor Takuro!”

“Right, just go ahead and make fun of me!  I know I sound like a selfish bastard.”  Upsurge of movement, lots of pacing around ensues.

“Hey, Takuro, I was only kidding.”

More pacing.

“I had no idea you felt like that.”

“It’s not something you can just tell anyone and not have them think you’re some kind of narcissistic jerk.”

“Sounds like Yoshiki.”

Glare in return.

“Then why did you tell me?”

“Because... I don’t know, because I trust you, I guess.  You’re good friend... and to get you off my back.  Now that you know what I’m in a funk about, you’ll realise there’s nothing you can do and stop bugging me.”  Pacing ends at the wall running around the rooftop, and he leans against it, staring out into the distance, seeing everything and nothing.

The quiet is broken after a couple of minutes.

“What brought this on, Takuro?”  More gentle now, cautious.

“It’s silly, you wouldn’t want to know.  You’ll think I’m being childish, or emulating Yoshiki again.”

“Try me.”

“Yeah, well, I was surfing the ’Net the other day and I came across loads of Glay sites...”

“Um, that’s good, right?”

“Yes!  And then there were also countless sites dedicated to Teru...”

“Hm-mm...”

“To Hisashi...”

“Yep, seen those too.”

“And on Jiro.”

...

“So... there’s plenty of sites about the band, and on individual members, but... not near enough of them on you, and that makes you feel neglected and overlooked.”

“Guess so.”  It comes out grudgingly.

“You know, Tak, that in the industry, you’re already highly respected.  It’s common knowledge that you have great talent.  You’re way up there, man.”

“Well... but those sites were made by our fans, so doesn’t that indicate that in their eyes, I’m not as good?”

“Look at your fanbase, Takuro, the majority of them are teenagers, mainly girls.  Kids that age tend to get hung upon the superficial trappings.  You ought to know that.  Think back to when _you_ were 15.  Who was the first person in a band that you thought was cool?  The person who’s the most striking, right?  His abilities usually come in later, and if he’s really talented, then it was an added bonus.”  Consoling pat on the shoulder.  “So you can’t really expect them to look too deep.  Plus maybe your older fans got traumatised for life after they saw you wearing make-up.”  Delicate shudder.

“Hey, I resent that!”

“So?  I’m still right, and I’m so glad I made you see sense.  You just have to accept that some guys can put on make-up – were born for it, like yours truly –” ducks to avoid a swat at his head, “while some look so much better without.”  Hand raised to forestall protest.  “Life’s just unfair like that.  Deal with it.”

“Yeah, like you’d really get how it feels.”  Still half-heartedly clinging to a soreness tended too long.

“Oh?  You think?”  Acid lacing each intonation.  “Well, allow me to inform you that you’re not the only person with such problems.”

Disbelieving glance, then a surprised look.  “You?!  What are you griping about?  I’m sure there’re way too many sites about you out there, and during lives, probably half the audience’s attention is always on you at any one time, with the way you dress and move on stage.”

“But my actual fanbase is not wide.”  Picks at the black lace on his sleeve cuff gloomily.  “Not like his.”

“Ah.  I see...  But the music you two produce is so vastly different.  With his going mainstream and yours being so experimental, of course you can’t expect to gain his amount of popularity –”

“I can dream, can’t I?”  Snappish retort.

...

Sudden self-deprecating laughter.

“God, this is so moronic!”  Shake of head in amazement.  “I’m actually lecturing you on this and I’m stuck in the same quandary.”

“Yeah.”  A chuckle as well.  “When it ain’t yourself...”

“Well, if it’s any consolation, I think you write much better than him, but don’t tell him that.”  Playful wink.

“Hell no!  I still want a peaceful love life.”

“More like you want an ongoing sex life.”

“Oh, Takuro, you know me so well.”  Friendly arm around his shoulder.

The lights above and below continue to blink and twinkle, a flickering constant.

“Taku?”

“Yeah?”

“Glay was your dream, your concept.  It was your sheer will and talent that pushed it through, made it what it is today.  That’s not to say the others don’t count, they’re great in their own right, and they helped you along and worked with you, so they’re part of Glay too.  Integral parts.  But you’re the pillar.  You’re the one who holds everything together.  Without you, the whole gig would fall apart.”

“...You think so?”

“I _know_ so.  And the others know it too.  I’m sure of that.  All those who _really_ matter know that.  Deep inside, I think you yourself are aware of it too.”

“God, now I feel so pressurised.”

“Bullshit!  You love it.  You positively fucking thrive on it.  You wouldn’t be you otherwise.”  Lets go of Takuro, and proceeds to climb on the ledge.

“Uh, I don’t think that’s very wise.”

A pout.  “Fine, you spoilsport.  I’ll just sit down here then.”  Settles into a safer position on the ledge.

“Thanks.  You just saved me the trouble of facing the police in the event you fall off and die.”

“Fuck off.”  Flash of a grin.

“Fuck off yourself.”

Cool breeze rustles about their clothes, ruffles their hair.

“Look into yourself, Takuro.  Why did you choose this life path in the first place?  Because of the fans?  Would you have known how big you’d become back then?  Sure, they’re a wonderful bonus, but they’re not the reason we got on this ride.  Take away the fans, take away the money, the fame, and we’d still be doing this.  Ultimately...”

Mutual smile, from deep within.

“Ultimately, it’s the music.”

“Yep, years down the road, when people have forgotten about us, we’d still be making music, because we’re born with it and it’s in our blood and soul.”

Sudden hug.

“Hey, man, watch it!  You wouldn’t want me to fall off, would you?”  But places his arms on top of those around his waist and leans back against the body standing behind him.  “What was that for?”

“Arigatou.”

“No problem, Takuro, anytime.”  
   
***

Ringing of the mobile.  “Moshi moshi.”

“Takuro?  It’s me.”

“Yeah, hi!  What’s up?”

“After going home last night, I think you still need some time to de-stress.”

“Really?”

“Yes, so how about coming with me on a trip to Italy?  Sunny beaches, warm weather, cool ancient ruins, Italian food...”

Sounds of shouting in the background, followed by a door slamming.  Loudly.

“Are you at home?”

“I won’t be very soon.  Why?”

“Hmm... somehow I get the impression that you’re suggesting this trip for your own self-preservation than mine.”

“Alright, I admit it!  Things aren’t going so well between him and me at the moment.  Are you coming or not?”

“Okay, I’ve never been there yet.  When are we leaving?”

Crash of furniture and a door slamming again coming clearly through the phone.

“How about right now?!”

***

Roar of the plane lifting off the runway.

“So what are you going to do?”

"Enjoy myself.”

“I meant about _him_.”

“Oh.  That.  I’ll... think of something when we get back.”


End file.
